


Caution Tape (Around My Heart)

by SKJC



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Closeted Character, Fade to Black, Hook-Up, M/M, Religion Undertones, Supercross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 04:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13403394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKJC/pseuds/SKJC
Summary: Professional supercross racer Otabek Altin is bored out of his mind with the sponsors, press events, and other extraneous things that come along with his successful career.His life suddenly changes when he meets a foul-mouthed, golden-glittered fashion model named Yuri Plisetsky.





	Caution Tape (Around My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this on and off since September of last year. It was originally going to be my entry for the Big Bang On Ice, but my work schedule didn't allow me to keep that timeline, so I've just been sitting on it and tweaking it for a while. Much thanks to JJ from The Madness for helping me with the title, tags, and summary!
> 
>  
> 
> 100% honesty time: Beyond a few vague ideas, I don't really know where this is going, and given my track record with actually finishing multi-chapter AUs... Well... Yeah. We'll see. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It was only the first event of the new supercross season, and Otabek Altin was already unimaginably bored with it all.

Not with the actual racing, of course. He was a three time defending champion and everyone, himself included, expected him to keep winning. That part was fine. What bored him nearly to tears was all the rest of it. The tediously repetitive podium speeches, the press conferences and interviews, the stupid videos he was forced to take part in for his team to post on YouTube, and the attentions of an endless line of scantily-clad models who worked for the energy drink sponsors and didn’t care who he was other than being a guy who won races. 

It was exhausting, all of it, and thinking too hard about it made him want to retire at the ripe old age of twenty-three. 

But not tonight. The weekend’s race, like every season opener, took place in Anaheim, and one of the girls he was kind of almost friends with had invited him out to a club. He’d been unable to find a good reason to turn it down. People in California sure loved their damned after-parties, and it made him miss the east coast desperately. 

Begrudgingly, he dug through his stuff, trying to find something suitable to wear. It wasn’t that he had anything against dance clubs; he loved music, and he was a bit of a hobbyist DJ, but the atmosphere in places where people knew who he was without actually knowing him was disconcerting. Finally, he settled on a pair of dark jeans that were only a little tattered, a plain white t-shirt, and his usual leather jacket and boots. If the bouncers wouldn’t let him in dressed like that, all the better, he thought, because then he could just call it a night and leave.

As he headed out to catch an Uber to the club, he took out his phone to tap out a message to his friend and teammate Leo, who claimed to be too Christian to go out and party in places where people might be drinking and swearing and having sex, at least as far as anyone who didn’t actually know him was concerned.

_ I’m out to the pit girls’ party, _ he typed,  _ so pray for my sanity and call the cops if I’m not back by dawn. _

_ vaya con díos _ was the response he got, accompanied by a prayer hands emoji. 

Every single time Leo used his devout faith to get out of going to parties, it made Otabek ponder the idea of taking up his own family’s religion just so he had the same excuse. Even so, every time he thought about that, the reality hit him that some of the superfans of the sport he’d chosen to make his career would definitely not be happy if their superstar champion suddenly became a practicing Muslim. The “God, Guns, and Football” crowd wasn’t the entire fanbase, but they were certainly out there.

Not that Leo was really as pure and innocent as he let people think - Otabek had done plenty of tequila shots with him in hotel rooms over the last couple of years, he’d definitely heard the guy swear more than once, and there were also some dirty pictures on his phone that Otabek knew were from a girlfriend he had back home. Not that he was judging or anything.

Honestly, he considered Leo a good friend. They had a lot in common, the biggest thing being their love for music. Occasionally he’d let his mind wander down the path of thinking what a shame it was that Leo was straight, but then he would remind himself that even if that weren’t the case, there were easier ways to fuck up his career than getting outed by fucking around with a teammate. As much as the fans would be pissed if he were to become even faux-religious, they’d be even more pissed if they knew he was gay. 

He threw all those thoughts out of his brain when the Uber dropped him off at the club. He made his way inside, vaguely disappointed when the bouncer didn’t even give his outfit a second glance, and looked around for anyone who looked familiar. The place was loud and dark, but not abnormally so. 

“Otabek!” A female voice that he recognized cut through the noise. “Over here!”

He followed the voice through the crowd and found his almost-friend Mila sitting at a table with two other girls and a round of drinks.

“Hey,” he said, looking around the table. He recognized Mila’s friend Sara, but the blonde girl in the weird outfit wasn’t someone he’d seen before. She was wearing what looked like a leather bolero jacket that covered just enough of her chest for it to be legal, with a layer of gold chains of varying thicknesses bridging the gap. Her hair cascaded loosely down her back and looked like it had gold glitter in it. 

“I’m glad you made it!” Mila handed him a bottle of beer and shoved one of the empty chairs out so he could sit down. “Lots of the other girls are around,” she gestured in the general direction of the dance floor, “and a few of the other guys came too, I know I saw JJ and Bella.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Otabek replied dryly, and took a sip of the beer. JJ Leroy wasn’t that bad a guy - they’d been friends when they raced in amateurs, but he’d gotten pretty far up his own ass as an adult for someone without the results to back it up.  

The blonde girl eyed Otabek curiously. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, sorry!” Mila laughed. “Otabek, this is Yuri. We go to the same dance studio! He’s really good!” 

_ He? _ Otabek thought, taking a closer look. Sure enough, underneath the weird chain-jacket, the man’s chest was flat, and the lines of his face were definitely masculine, as was the speaking voice. He supposed that should know better than to assume things like that in California. “Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess?”

“Is this the guy you won’t shut up about?” Yuri asked, addressing Mila directly with only a roll of his eyes in Otabek’s direction. “I know you’re thirsty as hell but you do know there’s about a thousand fuckboys just like him in L.A., right?” 

“I don’t spend much time in L.A.,” Otabek cut in before Mila could respond, “but I really doubt there’s anybody there who’s just like me.” This guy was a diva of the highest caliber, he could already tell, and that wasn’t something he had a lot of patience for.

“God, Yuri, don’t be such a dick!” Mila shot an annoyed glare across the table, and Yuri just laughed and took a big gulp from his very large, very purple mixed drink.

“Nah, it’s all right,” Otabek said. “If that’s the rudest thing anyone says about me all week, it will be a miracle.” The downside to being on top in his sport was all the message board bench racers online who had nothing but shit to talk in between events. “The idiots on the internet will dish out harsher stuff than that by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, the hardships of being a famous superstar,” Sara remarked wryly from the opposite side of the table. 

The group continued to make small talk through a couple more rounds of drinks. They were briefly joined by others who moved on through the crowd after a bit, and for the most part, it was the girls chatting while Yuri threw in an occasional snide comment about something they said or something some stranger was wearing, while Otabek drank his beer in relative silence, enjoying the music. It was actually pretty good, so this wasn’t the worst social event he’d ever been railroaded into. And the company was better than he’d expected - Mila was her usual self, Sara was just as straightforward as ever, and Yuri’s no-nonsense bitchiness was actually somewhat endearing. 

“Otabek, you should come dance with me!” Mila said abruptly after finishing off her third drink, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “Come on, it will be fun!”

“You know I don’t dance,” Otabek replied, “but I’m sure you can find somebody here if you go looking.” In the skin tight red dress she had on, that started just above her breasts and ended at mid-thigh, he figured she could find as much male companionship as she desired. Probably some female companionship as well, judging by the way Sara kept eyeing her, but that was neither his business nor his concern. 

“He’s right,” Sara said, and stood up from her chair. “Come on, let’s go find some more interesting people.” She grabbed Mila’s arm and pulled her off towards the dance floor, and Yuri started laughing again as they walked away.

“Oh my god, it’s like the worst soap opera ever,” he said. “Mila’s trying to get in some closet case jock’s pants while Sara’s so gay for her she’s been practically shitting rainbows for months. You all should go on a daytime talk show.”

“Excuse me?” Otabek’s head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself a neck injury. “What did you just say?”

“Sorry,” Yuri was still laughing and definitely not sound the least bit sorry, “but I’ve never met a straight guy who didn’t want to fuck Mila, and I’ve also never met a self-respecting out guy who would dress like  _ that  _ in a place like  _ this _ ,” he gestured to Otabek’s outfit, “so I figured it was a fair assumption.”

Otabek stared in shock for nearly a full minute as he tried to process the fact that this smart-ass stranger had so easily figured out something like that about him that no one else knew. Not his friends, not his family, not his co-workers. “Keep that to yourself,” he finally replied, almost too quietly to be heard over the volume of the background noise. “It would fuck up my career if it got out, and god forbid my family ever hear about it.” He gave a dejected sigh and took another drink from the bottle of beer on the table in front of him.

“Hey, I might be an asshole, but I’m not into outing strangers.” Yuri finished off his own drink and shoved the glass away across the table. “If I had ten bucks for every closeted guy I ever fucked in Hollywood, I could probably retire.” 

Otabek chose to ignore the larger part of that statement and asked, “What is it that you do again? Mila mentioned that you guys dance at the same place?”

“That’s just a hobby,” Yuri replied. “I’d love to dance professionally, but the last audition I went to for a real company, the stuffy old bitch running the thing looked me over and said ‘I have enough girls here, what in the world am I supposed to do with you?’”

“That sounds pretty awful, but I have to admit I don’t know much about ballet.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about whatever the fuck it is that you do, so we’re even.” Yuri grabbed his phone from where it sat on the table and began to look through it. “I’m a model. Fashion advertisements, mostly, and the occasional commercial if I can be what they’re looking for. A good makeup artist can butch me up enough for a lot of things.”  He rolled his eyes dramatically as he held his phone out for Otabek to see. 

The image on the screen was very impressive. In it, Yuri was wearing a slim, well-fitted suit in a midnight blue color that seemed to have shimmery bits woven into the fabric. It looked as though he were wearing the starry night sky, and Otabek wondered what it had looked like in person if the camera had managed to capture it in such detail. Yuri’s hair had been braided up and away from his face, and even with that, the angles of his nose, cheekbones, and jawline had to be the effect of a combination of makeup and Photoshop. As striking as he was even in the low light of the club, it was a very dramatic difference. 

“Wow.” It was a dumb response, Otabek knew, but he couldn’t think of anything better to say. As much as he’d love to blame that on the three beers, he knew better.

“Yeah, that was a good shoot.” Yuri took the phone back briefly to flip through it some more. “This one was for for a different client,” he said, handing the phone back over.

Very different indeed, Otabek thought as he looked at the new photo. In it, Yuri was leaning against a wall with both hands in the pockets of a skin-tight pair of white pants that ended just above his ankles as he glanced nonchalantly off to the right. He wore a fitted black button-up shirt that was made of lace throughout the chest and torso, showing off almost as much of his pale skin as the outfit he wore to the club, but with opaque sleeves that ended just above the elbow. His hair was loose in the shot, falling down his back past his shoulders, and his eyes were clearly accentuated with mascara, liner, and shadow. On his feet were a pair of heeled black ankle boots with lace around the tops that matched the shirt. They didn’t look particularly comfortable.

“That seems a little more your style,” Otabek said honestly, “at least based on what you’ve got on tonight.” 

“Yeah, I’m not much of a suit and tie guy.” Yuri took the phone back again. “But hey, I show up and wear what they tell me. It’s not a bad living, and I get to hook up with a lot of the photographers. There’s worse things than hanging around with good-looking guys who want to worship you.” He began flipping through the phone again. “This one was more of a… private affair. Same photographer as the last set, though.”

The next image he showed Otabek was just a shot of himself laid out on a fancy leather couch in nothing but a pair of white briefs, arms over his head and long legs stretched out as he looked seductively into the camera.

Otabek cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure how he was supposed to respond to that. It was sexy and provocative, and that wasn’t something he was particularly used to. “It seems like you have a lot of fun,” he offered lamely, and Yuri smirked at him.

“Yeah, I do.” Yuri looked him up and down suggestively. “We could have some  _ fun _ too, if you wanted.”

Otabek’s breath caught in his throat and he wondered if he’d really just heard that “I thought you said there’s fuckboys like me all over the place.”

“So maybe I was wrong.” Yuri shrugged. “Or maybe I was just trying to piss Mila off.”

Otabek took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves as he considered that. He wasn’t the kind of guy who slept with strangers. Really, he wasn’t the kind of guy who slept with anyone - he’d fooled around with a couple of guys when he was still in school, but that was about it. He figured his near-complete lack of experience was probably not what Yuri was looking for. Even so, the idea was intriguing, and the thought of it made put his heart rate through the roof. “You’re serious,” he said, half statement and half question. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Yuri asked. “If you’re not interested, that’s fine, but I think you are.”

“I am,” Otabek replied, probably a bit too quickly. “I just don’t do this kind of thing. Usually.”

An amused grin spread across Yuri’s face. “Sex with strangers, or sex in general?”

“Neither, really,” Otabek admitted, hating the fact that his face was burning with embarrassment. At least it was somewhat dark in the club. “It’s… It’s never been a priority.”

“Huh.” Yuri appeared to consider that for a moment. “Well, whatever. You have Uber on your phone?”

“Yeah, it’s how I got here, why?”

“Well, I’m guessing you probably don’t want to be seen leaving here with me,” Yuri explained wryly, “so unless you want to fuck in the bathroom, taking separate cars to my hotel is probably the best idea.”

“If you live in L.A., why the hell do you have a hotel room down here?”

“Because I’m not trying to get arrested for a DUI on the highway in the middle of the night like an idiot,” Yuri said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Give me your phone.”

Otabek couldn’t really argue with that and handed over his phone. He watched as Yuri tapped a location into the Uber app and requested a ride for him. 

“There.” Yuri handed the phone back. “Go, I’ll wait like ten minutes, pay the tab for the drinks so Mila doesn’t fucking kill me, and then bail myself. It’s room 2246. Here.” He pulled a key card out of the back of his own phone case and gave that to Otabek as well.

“I guess I’ll see you in a bit then.” Otabek tried to disguise his nervousness behind an uncharacteristic smile. He could barely believe he was actually going to do this, and pushed himself up from the table before he could lose his nerve.

It was a shorter car ride to Yuri’s hotel than it had been from his own, which was a good thing because it didn’t give him a lot of time to talk himself out of the idea. As a distraction, he pulled out his phone and typed out another text message to Leo, who was probably already sleeping.

_ hey, one of the girls got way too drunk, so I’m gonna make sure she gets out of here okay. I’ll be back before checkout time in the morning, though, so if the bosses ask about me, just assure them I’m not dead. _

It wasn’t a great lie, but he figured it was believable. There was no response.

Upon entering the hotel room, Otabek couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was supposed to do while he waited for Yuri to arrive. Should he wash up? Take his clothes off? What was the etiquette for this kind of thing? He’d had a shower before going out but it wasn’t like this had been particularly anticipated. He finally settled on taking off his jacket and shoes and sitting at the small table in the corner of the room to fiddle with his phone. 

The pounding knock at the door of the hotel room a short time later startled him, and he jumped in surprise. He went to answer it, and Yuri pushed in, a scowl adorning his features.

“God, I hate chatty fucking Uber drivers.” Yuri kicked off his leather boots after he entered the room, and Otabek watched as they thumped against the wall. “I could not possibly have cared less about that asshole’s engineering classes.” 

Otabek gave a chuckle at that. “Sorry about your luck. The guy who drove me didn’t say a word.”

“Good.” Yuri shrugged his jacket off, chains and all, exposing the pale, toned planes of his chest. He seemed to shed glittery golden powder along with the clothing. “More people need to know when to shut the fuck up.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” Otabek said, trying desperately to maintain some level of the  _ chill _ he imagined was expected in an encounter of this sort. “Too much pointless chatter is just unpleasant.”

“Yeah, it is.” Yuri smirked and gestured to the bed. “So take your clothes off and let’s get to this. It’s almost three in the morning and I have shit to do tomorrow. I’m sure you do too.”

Otabek thought briefly of the phone call he was sure to get from his team manager in the morning, wondering where he was. Leo would probably find some kind of hole in his stupid lie, as well. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, and pulled his shirt off over his head.

“Jesus, that looks fucking awful.” 

Otabek raised one eyebrow curiously before he realized that Yuri’s gaze was focused on the scarring on his right shoulder. “Oh, yeah. Busted my collarbone up pretty good a few years ago. It took surgery to put it all back together properly.” He shrugged in an attempt to dismiss the sudden wave of self-consciousness. “It’s a pretty common racing injury, as they go, and it actually could have been worse.”

“Wow. The worst thing I’ve ever done to myself was a couple of stress fractures in my feet when I was still dancing  _ en pointe _ .” Yuri shook his head slightly and turned to dig through a backpack for a minute, before he pulled out a silver condom packet and a small plastic bottle of lube. 

“You bring that kind of stuff everywhere on a regular basis?” Otabek asked, trying for a joking tone of voice. He was thrilled when Yuri laughed in response.

“Hey, I may be a slut, but I’m a responsible slut.” Yuri grinned and began to peel his tight leather pants off.

Otabek did the same with his own jeans, and before he knew it, he was sitting against the headboard of one of the too-hard hotel beds with Yuri straddling his lap, kissing him like it was the end of the world. It was glorious, and he held onto Yuri’s trim hips for dear life, trying not to think too much about the firm ass that was pressing down against his groin.

At some point, he must have forgotten to breathe, because Yuri broke the kiss briefly to ask, “Everything okay?”

“I’m good,” he murmured in reply, gaze focused intensely on Yuri’s pink lips. Everything was definitely not okay, but in the best possible way. 

“You did say you’ve done this before, right?” Yuri asked, a mischievous smirk on his face as he ground his ass down against Otabek’s burgeoning erection.

“I have,” Otabek gasped out, “just not with anybody quite like you.” He kissed Yuri again, desperately, their tongues sweeping against each other.

“Just do me a favor and don’t fucking fall in love with me or anything,” Yuri said when they broke apart again. “I’ve got enough on my plate with this one crazy married guy who’s obsessed with me already.”

“Got it.” Otabek tried his best not to think about any of the implications of that statement as Yuri reached for the condom and lube.

A few hours later, Otabek awoke to the annoying glow of sunlight gleaming through the curtains and the chime of his text message alert tone from his cell phone. He reached across Yuri’s sleeping form to grab the offending device and silence it before glancing at the screen with sleep-blurred eyes.

_ Celestino is not happy that you’re not back yet  _ was the message from Leo that appeared on the screen.  _ Whatever you’re doing, you should get over here soon. _

Instead of replying, Otabek put the phone back, face-down, on the nightstand. No one was going to die if they got on the road a couple hours late. It wasn’t like they were that far from home.

Much to his chagrin, Yuri stirred as he was settling back down. 

“What time is it?” Yuri grumbled, face pressed snugly against Otabek’s shoulder bare shoulder over his old surgery scar. 

“Just after eight,” Otabek replied in a thick voice. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Ugh, no, I should get up.” Yuri made absolutely no move to do so. “I’ve got a shoot I have to be at this afternoon.” He heaved a sigh and curled closer against Otabek’s chest. “Fuck it, Victor can fucking wait. I’m like, his favorite toy, so he’ll get over it.”

_ Victor. _ Otabek pondered the name and the tone in which Yuri spoke it. Was that the guy who was obsessed with him? Otabek knew it wasn’t like he had any right to be curious about other guys his one-night stand might be involved with, but he couldn’t help wondering. His life was decidedly nothing like the one Yuri apparently enjoyed, after all.

He had just about settled his brain down again when his phone began to ring, an actual call instead of a text message. “Damn it,” he swore, and sighed heavily before reaching over again to grab it. “Hello?”

_ “Altin, where the hell are you?”  _ Celestino, his team manager, was the voice on the other end.  _ “I don’t care how many trashed fangirls you’ve been hooking up with, but get back here on the double.” _

“It’s not like that,” Otabek replied, and tried to take comfort in the fact that he wasn’t totally lying. “Look, I’ll be back as soon as I can get a ride, okay?”

_ “Good. We’ve already checked out, and Leo got all your stuff from your room, so get moving.”  _ The line disconnected with a click, and Otabek let the phone fall to the bedsheets with another annoyed sigh.

“Okay, I guess I actually do have to go.” He reluctantly shifted out of Yuri’s embrace, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were both slightly sticky from the lube and the dried sweat of the early morning hours. “I’m going to get chewed a new asshole by my manager on the ride back to Temecula.”

“Temecula? That’s like an hour away.” Yuri snorted and sat up against the headboard, messy hair hanging around his shoulders. “Why does he have his panties in such a knot over getting back?”

“We always keep a tight schedule.” Otabek swung his legs off the side of the bed, grabbed his phone, and got up to look for his pants and shirt on the floor. “My teammate likes to go to church on Sunday mornings, too.”

Yuri shuddered visibly. “Ugh, church. I went to a crazy-ass religious school when I was a little kid. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the teachers chanting  _ we wash our hands and say our prayers because Jesus and germs are everywhere _ . You couldn’t get me near a church if you paid me.”

“Wow.” Otabek wasn’t quite sure if there was an appropriate response to something like that. “That’s… I don’t think that’s the kind of church he goes to.”

Yuri laughed and stretched out on the bed again, the white sheets covering him from the waist down, and his chest still had traces of the gold glitter dust he’d been wearing the night before. “Hey, before you go, give me your phone again.”

“Why?” Otabek unlocked the device and handed it over anyway, regardless.

“So I can put my number in it, dumbass.” Yuri tapped away at the screen for a moment and handed it back. “Hit me up if you’re ever in L.A. We could totally do this again.” 

“Uh... Right.” Otabek pocketed the device and straightened the waistband of his jeans in an impossibly awkward gesture that he immediately regretted. “I’ll try my best. It’s not like I’ve got a ton of time for a social life, anyway.”

“I’ll see you around whenever, then.” 

_ Do me a favor and don’t fucking fall in love with me or anything  _ repeated itself in Otabek’s mind over and over on the Uber ride back, and he hoped desperately that he’d be able to manage that. 


End file.
